Free Nancy Kress - Crossfire 02 by Crucible

pants revealed everything about his genitals. Tall black boots, a short black cape, and some sort of hat with, of all things, a feather in it, like a Cheyenne only larger and more flamboyant. And gloves, although no one but Jake thought the Mausoleum was cold.
    Julian said, “Alex, Mr. Holman, may I present my brother, Duncan Martin. Duncan, this is Jake Holman, organizer of the first expedition to Greentrees, and Alexandra Cutler, second consul of the triumvirate of Mira City.”
    “Consuls and triumvirates! Oh, Julian, I see that you have indeed come to the right place!”
    Alex had been intending to say hello, but at Duncan Martin’s voice she forgot. She had thought Julian’s deep voice beautiful—it was beautiful—but Duncan’s sounded scarcely human to her. It was musical not only in its inflections but in a sort of background chords, a harmony to the spoken tones … human vocal chords couldn’t do that, could they? Was it genemod? The double tones somehow echoed in her ear, each syllable both distinct and resonating, a tenor vibrato of enormous power.
    Duncan smiled at her and bowed. “My dear Madame Consul. And you, sir.”
    Jake said flatly, “Falstaff?”
    “Oh, no, no! How could you think so? Mercutio, of course.”
    “Or a satire on Mercutio.”
    “Is there any other way to play it, really?”
    Alex had no idea what they were talking about. She looked at Julian, who said expressionlessly, “My brother is an actor.”
    “Eternally,” Duncan said. “All the world, and all that. You are a thespian, Mr. Holman?”
    “No.”
    “A fan?”
    “No.”
    “Pity. Well, we must take our audience where we find it. You, Madame Consul, must enjoy the theater.”
    “We don’t use titles like ’consul,’” Alex blurted. “And we don’t have a theater on Greentrees.”
    “Not as yet,” Duncan said, and smiled at her so richly that she was once more robbed of speech. What was he? A joke? Or did he consider them to be a joke? But why should he want to laugh at Mira City, and why should Julian let him?
    Julian was watching her. “My brother is always like this, Alex. In that he told the truth: to him the world always is a stage. If he were not so good an actor— when he isn’t mocking himself, of course—someone would have murdered him long ago for his aggressive self-promotion.”
    “And who else should promote me?” Duncan asked. “Or the company I will found in Mira City? I assure you, Madame Cutler, that when you hear me give my King Lear, you will forgive me any small excesses.”
    “Unfortunately for public decorum,” said Julian, “Duncan is right. You will forgive him anything.”
    Jake said nothing. Alex, at a complete loss how to reply, was saved by the arrival of Lau-Wah Mah. The Chinese man’s calm was not even dented by the weird figure of Duncan Martin.
    “I am Lau-Wah Mah, Commander Martin. Welcome to Greentrees.”
    “Thank you. We are delighted to be here. May I present my brother, Duncan Martin, who was just going to bring me a glass of tea. Would you care for one?”
    “No, thank you. Hello, Mr. Martin.”
    “And farewell. I search in vain, I see, for the sweetest fruit of the royal grape.”
    All four people watched Duncan walk away, stop at another group, and introduce himself. Alex said, “What’s a grape?”
    “Terran fruit,” Jake said, “often fermented to produce intoxicating beverages.”
    “Well, I can get Duncan a fizzie, I think. Or some Blue Lion. They’re not officially offered at the party, of course, but I think that—”
    “The last thing Duncan needs is more intoxication,” Julian said. “Governor Mah, Alex has been showing me around. What your triumvirate has accomplished here is impressive.”
    Lau-Wah studied Julian. “We don’t officially use the term ’triumvirate.’ It just originated as a joke of Jake’s. Ours is a pretty informal society.”
    “As ours is not. I’m sure you all perceived that. I suppose that manners, like